Mélange
by Elaienar
Summary: Magic Kaito Mélange: clutter. A collection of shortstories that are almost, but not quite, entirely unrelated to each other.
1. Eiketsu Kaito

Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are all life-sized, self-animated puppets. They aren't actually Aoyama Goshou's characters, because I don't own anything Aoyama Goshou does. I mean, would I do a thing like stowing away on a boat to get to Japan so I could climb into Goshou-sensei's apartment while he was out for supper and steal his characters and then get chased by the police but fortunately escape in a helicopter before the situation became really dangerous?

Of course not ...

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**Eiketsu Kaito**

Kaitou Kid was cornered, quite literally. It was an uncomfortable corner, too; his victim had extremely unfortunate taste when it came to interior decoration. It involved (but was in no wise limited to) panelling molded in the shape of ... but such things are best forgotten. Let us return to the subject at hand.

Kaitou Kid was cornered. Not two yards in front of him, coldly quashing all hope of escape in that direction, the entire Kaitou 1412 Taskforce formed a human wall. A human wall that, from the growling, triumphant sound coming from its collective throat, bore him an immense grudge, perhaps because of the number of times he had made it look like an utter fool.

Above his head, a metal cage was being lowered from the ceiling (which was just as unfortunate as the walls). Perched on its titanium roof were several dozen members of the Kaitou 1903 Taskforce. (Was that even _legal_? Wasn't a kaitou entitled to have his own personal Taskforce to chase him around, and not a bunch of bothersome strangers?)

Escape was impossible.

Capture was immenent.

_Unless_ ...

"Wait!" commanded Kid.

The advancing Taskforce halted, cowed by the raw authority in the kaitou's voice. The hysterical owner of the jewel which now resided in Kid's waitscoat pocket stopped mid-shriek. Even the cage stopped its descent.

With unmitigated dignity and menace, Kid put a hand into the breast of his white jacket and withdrew is, his gloved fingers clasped around something spherical and red. He lifted it above his head, grinning maniacally.

The Taskforce realized the danger danger too late. The kaitou brought his raised hand down in a sweeping motion.

"Pikachu!" shouted Kaitou Kid. "I choose _you_!"

--------------------------

The next day headlines all over Japan screamed the news: _KID THWARTS TASKFORCE AGAIN!_ said one, and added underneath: _Nakamori defeated by Pokemon; police baffled by Kid's new weapon_.

Aoko was not happy.

_Finis_

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**A/N:** Ummmm ... do I have to do penance for this one?

On a linguistical note, my handy-dandy-online-translator tells me that "eiketsu" means "great man; hero; master mind", and as I couldn't find the Japanese for "Pokemon Trainer" (_is_ there a Japanese for that, or is it just "Pokemon toreenaa"?) I made do with what I _could_ find.

Ja ne!


	2. Cornering the Market

Magic Kaito is the possession of Aoyama Goshou. I'm not Aoyama Goshou. Therefore I don't own Magic Kaito.

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Cornering the Market

"Yes."

"No!

"Yes."

"No!"

"YES."

"NO!"

Kudou Shinichi, alias Edogawa Conan, pint-sized Sherlock Holmes of the twentieth century, folded his arms across his chest and frowned at his argumentative opponent, the last magician of the century - that is, Kaitou Kid. He said: "You have to."

Kaitou Kid folded _his_ arms. "I'm not going to.

"Oh, for crying out loud! It's the rules; what happened to being an honourable thief?"

"That doesn't apply to jail."

"Says who?"

"Says _me_."

Conan abandoned that method of persuasion and tried a different tack. "It's your own fault. If you hadn't cheated - "

"I didn't!"

The detective gave him a Look.

" ... Okay ... maybe just a little."

"You know, if Nakamori-keibu was here instead of me, he'd have your head on a platter. Besides, it's just jail - you'll be out in no time - so stop whining and take it like a man. I'm tired of waiting for my turn while you dither."

"Fine," said Kid, sulkily. He retrieved the tiny brass top hat from its position on _GO TO JAIL_ and deposited it on the square marked _IN JAIL_. "Happy now?"

"Very," said Conan, throwing the dice. "Ooh, snake's eyes."

__

Finis

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**A/N:** They're called "plunnies", aren't they? Those little furry things - like rabbits, only with teeth - that attack you with an idea for a ficlet early in the morning when you're in no condition to resist? 


	3. Le Garçon Beau Sans Merci

I disdain to claim that which is not my own; instead I disclaim it. I don't own Magic Kaito, I just borrow it from time to time.

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Le Garçon Beau Sans Merci

There was a boy hovering around Aoko.

Again.

Kaito was wondering if Akako could be persuaded to cast a spell that would cause the words "back off, loser" to appear in front of Aoko every time some idiot transfer student with dating in his heart approached her. In foot-tall, firey letters, maybe even spitting sparks.

_This_ boy was no different from any other, Kaito could see. He slithered over to Aoko after class (the snake!) and smiled insinuatingly at her before beginning to talk (the worm!) about something Kaito couldn't make out. His eyes were black pits from which his girl-hungry soul leered sneakily when no one was looking.

Something had to be done, and Kaito knew he had to be the one to do it.

He began to work his way close to them, slowly and carefully, and arrived just as the boy was saying: "A _magician_? Kuroba is?"

"Hello, Kaito," said Aoko suspiciously.

"You're a magician?" said the transfer.

"Suuuuure," said Kaito, a sudden thought making him dance (inwardly only, of course) with glee. "I'm doing a show for the school tonight, as a matter of fact, but my normal assistant has called in sick and I need a replacement. Aoko, do you know anyone who could help?"

Aoko's face bespoke wry resignation (she'd seen this before) but the boy fell right into the trap. He said, a little too eagerly, and looking at Aoko rather than Kaito: "I could help - if you can't find anyone else, of course, I've never done anything like this before."

"Oh, that's not a problem," said Kaito, shaking the boy's hand energetically and watching Aoko roll her eyes and leave her would-be-suitor to his fate. "I always have one of Aoko's friends help me," he said, "only they're getting a bit scarce, you see."

The boy winced. "Scarce?" he said.

"Oh, well," said Kaito arily, releasing the boy's mangled hand, "accidents happen, you know."

--------------------------------

Accidents certainly did, and Kaito made especially sure of it that night. As Aoko's admirer stood fidgeting in the wings, waiting for his turn, he pulled bulldogs out of his hat ("Oops!") turned handkerchiefs into frogs ("I knew I should have practiced that one more.") and grew a thornbush on the stage ("Oh, sorry, wrong seed!"). Then he dragged a box onto the center of the stage, produced an artfully stained saw, and announced cheerfully: "I will now saw my assistant in half and put him back together."

Some of the audience snickered - probably Kaito's classmates, who had seen this before.

"Er ... Ku-kuroba ...?"

Kaito grinned at his victim. "Yes?"

"I, er, I have a phobia of sharp objects. I'm sorry, I just can't ..."

Kaito didn't have to feign the disappointment in his voice. "You can't?"

The boy twitched. "I really can't."

Crestfallen, Kaito put away the saw and the box, then brightened as he began Stage One of Plan B. "I will now - stop laughing, kids, he's phobic - I will now do a fairly simple trick called "The Vanishing Assistant".

Before the boy could register the pleasure in his voice and protest that he was claustrophobic, Kaito had bundled him bodily into the cabinet that was used for the vanishing trick. He made a few mystic passes, said a few magic words, and opened the cabinet to show that it was empty. He closed it again, made more mystic passes, said more magic words, and opened it again.

His assistant wasn't there.

"Dear, dear," said Kaito, as innocently as possible. "Let's try again."

He tried again.

The assistant failed to appear again.

"Well," said Kaito, with synthetic resignation, after he'd repeated the procedure another few times, "accidents happen. Guess we won't be seeing _him_ again."

The show ended in a frantic search for the missing assistant.

He was found almost an hour later, wedged into a gym locker (along with several of the bulldogs), semi-hysterical and completely incapable of explaining how he had gotten there. He started at the slightest noise, and when Aoko came over to question him, he shied like a frightened horse and nearly fainted. He couldn't explain that, either.

As Kaito had prudently worked another simple trick called "The Vanishing Magician", nobody got an explanation that night, or, indeed, at any other time. However, a few people suspected the reason. Aoko was among them. In her diary that night, she wrote simply:

Kaito disposed of another boy today. I wonder if he's ever going to ask me out himself, or is this punishment for something I did to him in a previous life? Not sure. Silly boy.

Finis

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**A/N:** I read a fic a few days ago where someone was considering asking Aoko out. Kaito was considering getting him to assist in a magic show and having an extremely unfortunate accident. That's where the idea for this came from. 

And on another note, Saitaina R. Moricia, you are perfectly right. You don't want to know. I can't say why, of course, because that would be telling, but I _can_ say that it involved monkeys and a can-opener, and had an improbability factor of two to the power of seventy-thousand nine hundread _and_ eight. Yup.


	4. Little Old Lady

I don't own Magic Kaito or the characters in it. They're lent to me (at usury) on a day-to-day basis ... and I'm late returning them. Oopsie.

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Little Old Lady

Things were going swimmingly (as they invariably did) until the old lady showed up.

Kaitou Kid had, as was his habit, disguised himself as a member of the Kaitou 1412 Taskforce and gone routinely undetected until the moment he had the jewel in his hand; at which time he had shed his disguise and set about his tradition of mocking Nakamori-keibu until the irate policeman was practically foaming at the mouth. All business as usual and entirely according to custom.

Then Kaito had retreated toward a hallway which Nakamori had unwisely deligated only two dozen member of the Taskforce to guard. That particular segment of the Taskforce was, at the moment, hanging by its collective feet from the ceiling and feeling rather woozy; a result of Kid's conventional gift of stun-gas. Kaitou paused at the doorway to throw one last insult at Nakamori-keibu and turned to go.

That was when the old lady arrived.

She came flying out of one of the doors in the hallway, a blurred whirl of ancient wrath that was all spiky hairpins, clashing beads, and swinging cane. Kaito noticed the cane particularly: it was mahogany, smooth and straight as a poker, except where it curved at the top to form a handle. Both handle and tip were shod in silver; the silver on the handle was engraved in the shape of flowers and vines. He wasn't sure about the other end, as it had connected with his forehead right between his eyes and was difficult to focus on at that range, but from the feel of it, it, too, was engraved.

He supposed he ought to be grateful the old lady hadn't knocked his hat off.

Behind him he heard the sound of the Taskforce chasing after him stop abruptly, and in the silence it gasped a collective gasp. And well it might gasp; Kaito coudln't remember that he'd ever been hit before.

The old lady, however, was unconscious of the honour bestowed upon her by her action. "Thief!" she shrieked, raising the cane again.

By that time Kaito had recovered enough from the shock of being hit - in the face - by an old woman who looked as if she might fall over with every angry swing of that cane - enough to dodge backwards, avoiding her second swing by a hair's breadth.

"Rogue!" said the old lady, advancing in an aggressive way that didn't seem to fit with her frail, beady appearance.

"Maa maa, obaa-chan - " said Kaito, backing away and holding up both hands placatingly.

Bad move.

"Don't you 'obaa-chan' me, you burglar," said the old lady, hopping after him and swiping at him again.

"Obaa-sama, you'll hurt yourself," (duck) " - and a lovely lady like yourself - " (leap) " - shouldn't be endangering herself just for a jewel - gah!" She'd almost gotten him again. Kaito began looking for alternate escape routes - the old lady was following him around but managing to stay in-between him and the hallway, and the Taskforce was stirring.

"Stealing jewels! I'll hurt _you_, you knave!"

That was entirely likely, but Kaito wasn't about to admit it. He somersaulted away from the cane again - oh, there was a window with the lock unlocked - and tried again. "I'll give it right back!"

The old lady thrust the cane at him like a sword. "You'd better, you dishonest brat!"

"Of course I will." Kaito danced away - it was easy once he had the hang of it; rather like being chased by Aoko, and just as hard to get out of - trying to move towards the window without looking as if he was. "Tomorrow." The Taskforce was beginning to close in.

"Give it back _now_," demanded the old lady, swinging furiously.

There was an opening. The famous Kaitou Kid made for the window as if it was demons from Hell after him, and not merely a little old lady with a stick and a temper. He used Nakamori-keibu's head for a stepping-stone (the policeman made a furious grab for him but went down like a log) and perched on the high windowsill to look back, half expecting to see the old lady following in his footsteps.

She wasn't. She had arrived at the wall below the window and was shaking her cane up at him. "Delinquent!" she remarked.

Kaito breathed a silent prayer of thanks and bowed to her. She took it as cheek and threw the cane at him.

"Lovely lady," said Kaito, snatching the cane out of the air and cradling it in his arms, "I regret that our time together has been both short and full of conflict - not to mention canes. Had we met under different circumstances, we might have been friends. Alas, that is not to be; however, I accept your gift and will treasure it in your memory." On second thought, he turned it into a flowering branch and tossed it back down to her. "Farewell!"

With a swirl of his cloak, Kaitou Kid was gone.

"Well, I never!" said the old lady.

_

_

Finis

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**A/N:** Going on hiatus for about ... three days. Maybe more.

... I wonder what kind of thing Kaito might do to Saguru if he was pushed too far. Hmm ... but Saguru's flirting with Aoko doesn't seem that serious to me. I haven't seen the anime though.

Ja ne!


	5. The Night Before the Morning After

I don't own Magic Kaito. I don't own anything. Not even my soul.

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The Night Before the Morning After

The strange events of that fateful night were, for starters, somewhat surprising. They were also odd, astonishing, and weird, and they left Kaito with the feeling that someone was very much to blame. The trouble was, so many people were mixed up in the aforementioned events that, to this day, Kaito doesn't know _who_ to blame.

There was himself, of course: if he hadn't been Kaitou Kid it would never have happened. There was his mother: if she hadn't broken the can-opener and asked him to borrow one from Aoko as he was leaving to deliver a notice - personally, for once - then strange things might still have happened, but not _as_ strange; or if she hadn't left to visit a friend who had fallen ill suddenly, and forgotten that he hated fish. There was himself, again: if he hadn't started hyperventilating right away when he found that all the dinner she had left him was a fish sandwich, he wouldn't have forgotten about the can-opener and left it in the pocket of his suit. There was that Kudou kid: if he hadn't shown up at the heist that night, Kaito would have gone straight home instead of leading the miniaturized detective on a merry chase over the roofs of Tokyo. And last, but nowehere near least, there was Akako and her newfound hobby of mixing sorcery and science together in small glass vials that tended to explode violently at the most inopportune moment possible.

But I'm beginning at the wrong end of this story ... Well, I'll try again. This is what happened:

After he'd been chased by Kudou for half an hour, Kaito decided he'd had enough fun for the night and halted on the roof of a building (one of those dollar-stores that sell everything from bottled water to board games to cheap furniture) not far from his own neighborhood. So there they were on the rooftop, opponents in the game that was Kaitou Kid's search for Pandora. Kaito was relaxed, as usual - having Kudou turn up always made his jaunts more challenging and thus more enjoyable. Kudou, being in the body of a seven-year-old, was wheezing rather but not otherwise handicapped. As a matter of fact, at the moment he had the upper hand, since he was aiming his wristwatch-slash-transquilizer-gun at Kaito from a distance of a little less than five feet.

"I've got you now," he said.

Kaito grinned, hands in his pockets - one of which container the can-opener. "Have you?"

For answer Kudou squeezed the trigger-button. The needle shot out, almost too fast to see; but Kaito was also fast. He pulled his hands from his pockets and blocked with the can-opener. The needle clattered harmlessly to the ground at his feet.

"_Have_ you, tantei-kun?" inquired Kaito smugly.

Tantei-kun was giving him a look comprised of chagrin and incredulity. "Why," he said, "are you carrying a can-opener in your pocket?"

"I forgot it was there," said Kaito airily. "Lucky me."

Kudou scowled, and his hand moved to his belt. Kaito got ready to dodge - and then, out of the corner of his eye, saw soemthing that made him stop and stare. Something sailing through the air a few roofs over and a few stories up. What in the world ... ?

"Kaitooooo-kuuuuuuun," said the flying thing, in feminine tones.

"Oh _no_," said Kaito, in disgruntled ones.

The flying thing swooped nearer and resolved itself into a scantily clad young woman riding a broom.

"Oh my," said the girl, checking the broom and hovering to look at Kudou, who was gaping openly. "Who's this?"

"A detective," said Kaito. "Madame Sorceress, what are you doing here? Don't you have someone to be hexing or something?"

"How rude! I saw you engaged with an enemy and came to offer my assistance. However, as I see I'm not wanted here, I'll be on my way." The hovering broom rose several feet, then halted again while the girl searched in her clothing. "I've got something for you anyway. Use it carefully; it's only in the experimental stage and it could kill you if you don't." The broom was already moving away as she held her fisted hand out and tossed something toward Kaito; it picked up speed and vanished around a corner in an instant.

Kudou, naturally enough, was still goggling, but Kaito was more interested in the thing falling toward him.

It seemed to be made of glass.

He could see some sort of liquid inside it.

It was oblong.

There was a cork protruding from one end of it.

It was, in short a glass vial filled with one of Akako's nameless substances. And it was headed right toward him.

Kaito did the only sensible thing anyone who knew what Akako's concoctions could do would do under those circumstances. He dropped the can-opener, siezed the astonished Kudou, and dived for cover behind a nearby air-conditioning unit.

Behind him, the vial shattered and its contents promptly exploded.

When his ears had stopped ringing, Kaito sat up and cautiously peered over the air-conditioner, while Kudou scrambled to his feet beside him. The blast had left a scorch mark ten feet in diameter, in the center of which lay the can-opener, mysteriously unmarked.

"What was _that_?" demanded Kudou.

Kaito frowned at the can-opener. "I'm not sure. Last time it was eye-of-newt and wing-of-bat mixed with some floor polish. It was worse than this." He stood up and turned to look at his adversary, who was still staring at the black marks the explosion had left. "I think I'm going to call it a night."

"Uh ... "

"Surprised?" Kaito chuckled. "She has that effect on people."

"Hey ... "

"Good thing it didn't do much damage, huh?"

"Um, Kid ... "

"Once she almost blew up her house, but I think that was the time she mixed a love potion with liquid arsenic ... ow!" He looked down at Kudou, who was hopping on one foot and looking as if he was thinking about kicking him again. "What?"

Kudou pointed behind him. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Kaito whirled - and stared. The can-opener was shining with an eerie red light. It was also rising in the air and twirling slowly as it did.

It was at that point that Kaito decided that a strategical retreat was in order. It usually was when Akako was concerned, but as far as _he_ was concerned, this case required especial care. A floating glowing can-opener was something he didn't see every day, which was probably a good thing.

He began backing toward the door into the building, dragging Kudou with him, and keeping both eyes warily on the can-opener. It had stopped twirling, but the red glow was intensifying. As he reached the door, it began making can-opening motions, and somehow the air was crumpling away from itself, peeling back to reveal a blurry medley of dwirling colors and chaotic motion. There were voices coming from it, too - voices vaguely reminiscent of Hakuba, and also a strange, shrill chattering ...

... Which seemed to be coming not from the space itself, but from the horde of monkeys that were tumbling out of it and congregating on the roof.

There were brown monkeys, grey monkeys, black monkeys, tan monkeys, and multi-colored monkeys with bright backsides. There were monkeys wearing business suits, monkeys wearing ballgowns, monkeys wearing leopard skins, and monkeys wearing nothing at all. There were tall monkeys, short monkeys, thin monkeys, middle-sized monkeys, and monkeys that were improbably wide. Every single monkey was clutching a bundle of papers, and every single one was chattering at the top of its voice.

"_What_ - " began Kaito.

The crowd of monkeys turned as one monkey in his direction. There was a moment of complete silence, while the monkeys stared at Kaito and Kudou, and Kaito and Kudou stared back, and during which time the air folded silently back on itself and the can-opener disappeared.

Then the monkeys opened their mouths. A tremendous noise, ear-piercingly shrill and discordant, emitted from a hundred wide pink mouths; then the monkeys all moved toward the boys standing by the door.

Kaito threw caution to the wind. He picked the lock of the door in a second flat, hurled Kudou through, flung himself after, and slammed and relocked the door an instant before the first monkey reached it.

In the darkness, he could hear his own harsh breathing. He leaned against the wall, trying to calm himself, and listened to Kudou scuffling near the door and the monkeys chattering outside. He could almost make out words in the noise - but that was impossible.

"Those monkeys," said Kudou suddenly. "I think they're speaking English."

"You're kidding me," said Kaito. He began going carefully down the stairs, feeling for a light-switch.There was a clicking noise behind him and a flashlight beam shone over his shoulder and illuminated the stairs below him.

"I'm not."

"Thanks ... What are they saying?"

"I think," said Kudou, doubtfully, "they're saying something about us reading ... a ... a screenplay ... for ... _Hamlet_?"

"I am beyond surprise," said Kaito. He reached level ground and felt along the wall beside himself. Ah, there was the switch. He flipped it up and blinked in the sudden light. A swinging door in front of him led into the rest of the store - good, they could go out the front.

He pushed it open and peered down the aisle, past the checkout-counter to the doors, and then groaned as he saw movement beyond them that was almost certainly a lot of monkeys with screenplays. "We're not getting out of here any time soon," he said, turning to look at Kudou, "but her liquid spells usually wear off after a while, so presumably they'll disappear. Eventually."

Kudou's disgusted look mirrored his own secret opinion of the situation. "Are you telling me I'm stuck here with _you_ for an indetermined but probably long period of time?

"Hey, I saved your life up there, you know."

"I probably saved _yours_ by pointing out that your can-opener was bewitched."

"Fair enough." Kaito wandered over to the nearest shelf and pulled a board game off of it. Monopoly. He held it out to Kudou diffidently. "Since we're stuck here, want to play?"

Kudou shrugged. "Sure."

"I get the top hat!"

__

Finis

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**A/N**: ... Aaaand that's how Kaitou Kid and Edogawa Conan ended up playing Monopoly together. A Magic Kaito/Detective Conan/Hitchhiker's Guide to the galaxy crossover. I think that may be a first.

On another note, it _is_ Conan-Shinichi Kaito's dealing with here, not Shinichi-Shinichi ... I kept calling him "Kudou" because I suppose that's what Kaito calls him when he thinks about him, since he knows who he is.

On yet _another_ note, I apologise for my prolonged absence. It was unpremditated and the result of a series of accidents, of which I had a part in only one. I'm innocent, I tell you, innocent.

Ja ne!


	6. Decisions, Decisions

I don't own Magic Kaito. I've sometimes suggested that it would be nice if someone could lend it to me for just a bit, but they always turn me down like a bedspread.

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**Decisions, Decisions**

Kuroba Kaito stared intently at Nakamori Aoko's peaceful sleeping face, and wondered if he dared.

The decision as to whether he dared or not was an important one. As with every other decision, it had its pros and its cons. The pros in this case included the satisfaction of a completely pointless desire, and getting to see Aoko's adorable angry face twice in the same day; the cons included the possibility of getting lambasted with a wet mop.

Did he dare?

For a moment he didn't think that he did.

But could he stand the dishonour of having passed up such a golden opportunity - one he might well never be offered again?

Wouldn't he be shaming men everywhere if he refrained from doing something out of pure cowardice?

He knew he would regret it forever if he didn't give in to this insane longing while he could, whereas a mop to the face was only a temporary thing and not even an absolutely unavoidable result of his actions.

Could he do it?

Would he hold back now, simply because mops weren't the most comfortable of things to be hit with?

No!

He would do it - come what may, Hell or high water, or, more likely, Aoko swinging a mop - he would do it!

Grinning like a maniac, Kaito dipped into his pocket and, pulling out a colored marker, bent over his unsuspecting victim to begin his work.

_Finis_

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**A/N**: Hee hee ... 

It took me two tries - mind, that's unusual for a short like this - before I got it right. I tried coming at it from the other end first; Kaito had already markered Aoko's face and was waiting, somewhat trepidatious (is that a word?) for Aoko to wake up, and when she did, of course she went after him with a mop, but because I was trying to conceal the fact that the thing that was making him nervous was that he'd markered her face, it was too stiff and I trashed it. I like this one better.

Ja ne!


	7. While You Were Sleeping

It distresses me to admit it, but whatever the voices in my head may say, I don't own Magic Kaito.

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While You Were Sleeping

"_Asleep_?" said Aoko.

Kaito's mother nodded over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. "Keeled over on the couch in my room the instant he got home. He promised to get up at six, though, so you'll only have to wait for a little while. You could help me here. Or," she suggested brightly, "you could go and watch him for me. I want to know how he wakes up exactly on time the way he does."

"Um..." said Aoko.

"Be a dear and find out for me," said Fumiyo, turning back to the stove.

Aoko wondered, a little guiltily, if it would it be more embarrassing to stare at your best friend while he was sleeping or to explain to his mother that you didn't want to in case people got _ideas_. Then she wondered if someone already had ideas and was trying to matchmake; and Fumiyo chose that moment to glance at her over her shoulder, giving her a look that clearly meant "Why are you still here?"

Aoko blushed and fled; and that was how she found herself sitting on the floor of Fumiyo's room, watching Kaito sleep.

Kaito slept deeply and untidily. His jacket was still on, so it looked as if he _had_ thrown himself down the moment he returned from school. One leg hung over the seat and trailed on the floor; the other was arched. One arm was wrapped around his head; the other lay on his chest. His face was turned toward her; his lips curved in a smile, his brows curved gently over long-lashed eyelids. The entire pose bespoke careless, boyish innocence at first glance, but --

Funny, thought Aoko, I didn't know that Kaito wore Poker Face while he was asleep.

It was there now. Not that a casual observer would have noticed; even Aoko, had she only caught a glimpse of Kaito's face, would have seen only a tired boy fast asleep and smiling, perhaps at some happy dream; but when she looked closer, she could see that the smile was a little too firm: there was caution in the way the corners of his mouth were turned down. And there was something odd about the his eyebrows ... they were raised fractionally. Most people's eyebrows lowered when they slept.

When she looked closer, the face looked more like a face in suspended animation than the face of a sleeping boy. She suspected that if she took a picture of Kaito in the middle of a blink and compared it to this expression, the two would be identical.

Even in sleep, Kaito's face gave away nothing but what he wanted it to.

_That_ was nothing new. As he had grown older, Kaito's face had become less and less a window into his soul and more and more a stage where his emotions were actors, playing their parts with grinning aplomb. Aoko had learned long before that if she wanted to know what Kaito was thinking, she shouldn't look at his face or listen to what he was saying. Instead she read his body. She noted the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the slouching or stiffening of his back, the position of his feet, and the movements of his hands.

She looked at his hands now: slender hands, brown and long-fingered and smooth. They looked soft, like a child's hands, or a woman's, with their neat, clean nails and unblemished skin; but Kaito had a grip like a steel trap. Those hands never fumbled or shook, but she could read Kaito's mind in the way they tapped or fidgeted or - sometimes - lay quiet in deathlike immobility. Now one was palm-upwards behind his head (she could just see the tips of the fingers) and the other lay on his chest, the fingers relaxed and still. Kaito's face might have a hidden wariness even in sleep, but his hands were at rest.

Aoko smiled.

As if that tiny movement had been a signal, Kaito woke. His breathing quickened almost imperceptibly and the fingers on one hand made a slight movement. Then his breathing went back to the slow breaths of a sleeper.

"I know you're awake, Kaito."

"Aww," mumbled Kaito. He opened one eye and sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "I was going to snatch another few minutes. Have you been here long?"

"Ten minutes, more or less."

"Been staring at me the whole time?"

Aoko flushed. "Your mother wants to know how you always wake up on time - she told me to - "

"Sure," drawled Kaito, grinning. "It's as good an excuse as any, I guess."

That was far too close to the mark for comfort, so Aoko unplugged the nearest lamp and commenced chasing him around the room. And while she did, she spared enough attention to note - and take pleasure in - the relaxed, agile way that Kaito was dodging her. It told her far more that anything he'd ever said; and she was glad.

Finis

* * *

**A/N**: I'm pretty sure I have an excuse for writing something as pointless as this, but I can't remember what it is at the moment. Sorry.

I had an enormous amount of trouble writing this fic, and I don't know _why_. Well, I say "trouble writing" but what actually happened was that I wrote it in one sitting and then didn't want to post it and couldn't figure out why, so it's been hanging around in my Incomplete folder for a week or two while I racked my brains trying to figure out what was wrong with it. In the end I went through it, corrected mistakes, couldn't find anything fundamentally wrong, and decided I might as well post it.

I imagine my problem was that it's a deviation from the norm - which is to say, it's not humorous _at all_, which gives me many misgivings (_why_ isn't it funny? Should it be? Is there something wrong with my muse? Is there something wrong with _me_?); but that's the way it was conceived. It came about in a sort of flash; one of those I've-had-an-apostrophe moments, but it took me at least a week to decide to write it down (again because it's so different from my other fics). I think another problem is that I'm a closet Victorian and it felt sort of indecent (I guess?) to invade the mind of a girl while she's watching the boy she loves, even if she didn't go all squishy romantic or anything.

...On another note, this is my first time to write an author's note that's nearly as long as the fic it's noting things about. Fun fun.

On _another_ note, thanks to my reviewers - all three of you - for your kindness in speaking up and assuring me that my stories are fun reading. Your approval encourages me greatly.

Ja ne!


	8. Illumination

I don't own Magic Kaito (alas) and I don't own Detective Conan either (alack).

* * *

**Illumination**

* * *

White against black: Kaitou Kid's fantastical figure silhouetted against the night sky.

He was standing on the flimsy, ornate wooden parapet at the edge of the roof, back to the trap-door; facing the moon, his white cloak swirling around him, and holding up the necklace he'd just stolen up in one gloved hand, like an offering to the swollen yellow globe that hung in the darkened heavens.

Halfway through the trap-door, Kudou Yuusaku paused for a brief instant, taking in the scene with an artist's quick, impartial appreciation for beauty. Then he finished his ascent and scrambled onto the flat roof, letting the trap-door fall shut behind him with a _thump_ that served as a calling-card, and the picture shattered with the silence.

Kaitou Kid turned away from the ruler of the night to face him, his lips curling in a pleased smile. "Ah, Kudou-kun."

"Kid."

"I was expecting you," said Kid pleasantly. "Here, for Nakamori-keibu - with my compliments." He held up the necklace, the chain dangling between his fingers, then tossed it to Yuusaku.

Yuusaku caught it easily, giving it the merest glance as he frowned thoughtfully at the kaitou. Twice. This was twice now that Kid had personally given back his catch without even leaving the scene of the crime. He opened his mouth, meaning to make some sarcastic remark about the flimsiness of Kid's disguise earlier, but changed his mind at the last moment.

Instead, he said: "Why do you do it?"

For a moment he thought Kid might answer him seriously; there was a sudden stilling of all restless movement in the white figure before him; then Kid shrugged elegantly. "Why not?"

"Kid!"

"Oh, come now, Kudou-kun, you don't expect me to just _tell_ you everything, do you? Without teasing you first?"

Yuusaku scowled. "Kid ..."

Kid's voice had more than its usual quota of quiet amusement. "You know, sometimes I feel just like your brother. Have you ever had a little brother, Kudou-kun?"

"No, and considering the amount of time I spend chasing you around trying to get you out of trouble - or into jail - I'm glad I haven't."

"Considering the amount of time _I_ spend trying to shake you off so I can play by myself, so am I."

"Ha, ha. Why do you do it? Is it the fame?"

"Crowds do draw me, I confess."

"I thought it was the other way around."

"The two are not mutually exclusive."

"True ... So it's not fame. Is it excitement you crave?"

"I have yet to meet a man who _doesn't_ crave excitement."

"Also true. A mental disorder?"

"Hardly."

"The madman," said Yuusaku, pointedly, "never admits to insanity."

Kid chuckled.

"Is this the first stage of your plan to gain world domination?"

"You are simply _too_ much, Kudou-kun."

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

The kaitou's sudden stillness told Yuusaku he'd hit the mark.

"What is it?"

There was amused wonder in Kid's voice when he spoke. "How in the world did you guess _that_?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson. It's called the process of elimination." Yuusaku grinned. "What are you looking for?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Not funny."

Kid was grinning as well. "Crushed again," he said, lightly; then, in a more serious tone: "Hold that jewel up and look at it under the moonlight."

Mystified, Yuusaku did as he was told.

"What do you see?"

"Just the jewel," said Yuusaku, lowering the hand that held the necklace and frowning at Kid, who was watching him intently. "Is this another joke?"

"No ... But it's not what I'm looking for, either." Turning away again, Kid tugged at something hidden under his cloak, and his glider spread open. "That was a hint, by the way."

"No, really?"

The thief shot an amused glance over his shoulder before launching from the balustrade with a cheerful: "Ja ne, Kudou-kun!"

And then he was gone.

_Finis_

* * *

**A/N**: This conversation popped into my head, the result of a mesalliance between an idea of mine (that Toichi might have told Yuusaku about Pandora) and an idea of somebody else's (I can't remember whose, but I read a conversation between Toichi and Yuusaku and, naturally, was instantly desireous of writing my own).

Ja ne!


	9. With Catlike Tread

This lowly one has claim on neither _Magic Kaito_ nor the characters therein ...

* * *

With Cat-like Tread

Kuroba Kaito was a very talented kaitou; in fact, if anyone went so far as to say that he was _the_ most talented kaitou ever to steal a jewel, they wouldn't be far wrong. Kaito himself would doubtless say that it was his father who was the greatest, but having said that, he would probably class himself as next-to-greatest without a second thought.

No one could argue with that ranking. Kaitou Kid's skill is known all over the world, even though his various thefts have, at this time, been committed only within the borders of Japan. Within Japan herself, his nickname is a household world; his fanclub had over six million members at the last count; several books have been written attempting to explain why he does what he does; and even when month-long stretches of inaction on his part occur, his figure is often seen adorning the covers of magazines and the front pages of newpapers.

A well-known TV station recently funded and ran a short documentary on the elusive kaitou. After the usual admiration of his "brilliantly executed" crimes, the host ended by saying: "Even if he was not the most talented kaitou, he would certainly be the most famous. His flamboyant style of going after his targets is wholly to blame for this. It has been said that this is a symptom of a mental illness; it has also been said that it is simply the sign of a fun-loving nature. Whatever it is a sign of, it is generally agreed that Kaitou Kid enjoys his much-publicized jaunts so much that it would be impossible for him to steal something quietly if he tried."

This was not strictly true.

As a matter of fact, at the very moment that the documentary was running for the first time, Kuroba Kaito was trying to steal something, and if ever a kaitou snuck, it was him at that moment.

The situation was hilarious, given the fact that his target was completely unguarded. Yet Kaito was sneaking - yea, he was veritably slinking, one eye on the exit of the room in which his heart's desire sat defenselessly on a simple wooden stand. His soon-to-be victim had even left the room while he was in it - he wasn't sure if this denoted innocence, insolence, or simple ignorance. Whatever it was, he was glad of it; he wasn't going to risk _this_ prize through pomp and circumstance: he would take what he wanted and leave quickly while the going was good.

As Kaito edged closer and closer to his target, both eyes locked on it, his heart banged a triumphant tattoo in his chest. No one was going to stop him or even stand in his way ... even Nakamori-keibu was absent. There was no Hakuba, no Kudou, no Snake to oppose him - the way was clear ... Kaito reached out his hand and --

"Kai_to_!"

Kaito froze.

Aoko stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her hips, glowering at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Kaito - keep your hands OUT of the cookie dough!"

... Foiled again.

Finis

* * *

**A/N**: Eheh. Well, that was fun. The title comes from Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, and is the name of a singularly loud song. 

Ja ne!


	10. Pilgrim's Digress

I don't own _Magic Kaito_ or _Pilgrim's Progress_. I only borrow, imitate, attempt to keep, and fail in said attempt every single time.

* * *

**Pilgrim's Digress**

As I walked through the wilderness of my house, I lighted on a certain room where was a Bed, and I laid me down in that room to sleep; and as I slept I dreamed a Dream. I dreamed and behold I saw a Boy clothed in a School Uniform, standing in a certain place, within his own house, a Manga in his hand, and a Backpack upon his back. I looked, and saw him read the Manga; and as he read he scowled and glowered; and I not being able to control him, he brake out with a furious cry, saying _What have you done to me, you despicable author?_

Being mindful of myself I made no answer, for he seemed much wroth and did clench the air in his hands as if to strangle it.

I looked then, and saw a man named _Revealer_ coming to him, who asked, _Wherefore dost thou cry?_

He answered, Sir, because I percieve by thy name that thou hast some knowledge of this place, and can _reveal_ to me wherefore I find myself entrapped in a fanfiction, wherein I must needs speak verily in tongues, I tell thee that I cry because I do much abhor this my situation, and would remedy my uncomfort if by mine own strength I could.

_Rev._ Then said _Revealer_, Thy situation is not nearly as bad as thou thinkest it to be; do but persevere, and thou shalt be relieved, for I percieve that the author groweth weary of battling ancient syntax and vocabulary into some form or kind of intelligibility, and soon will cease to write.

_Kai._ What, said _Kaito_, for that was his name, will the author then abandon us to hang forever in this thrice-accursed state?

_Rev._ Nay, for when the author leaveth off and beginneth to write like an American again, then will all return to its former condition and state, and thou wilt be freed.

_Kai._ Good, said _Kaito_, "because this is just weird - come on, John Bunyan? I'm not even English, how does she expect me to talk like an Englishman from Bunyan's time when even most English people can't manage it these days? Hey! I'm talking like a normal person again!"

And so he was.

_Finis_

* * *

**A/N**: My mother made me read _Pilgrim's Progress_ for schoolwork. DX I'd already read it once, but she said I needed to think about it, but this is the only thing that popped into my head, besides a lot of rude things about John Bunyan, which I've repented of already. Hope you like it!

Thanks to reviewers: Lluvia-theWolfgirl, lady1011, AVAAntares, Nininjar, katiesparks, tantei-kitty, Serphenia, and Saitaina R. Moricia. May you be blessed with lots of cookies and things.

Ja ne!


	11. CostumeSpace

I don't own _Magic Kaito_, and the inspiration for this fic was sto - I mean ... _borrrowed_ from a comic, the name of which I can't remember.

* * *

**CostumeSpace**

Kaitou Kid was being pursued.

He dodged down the street, between pedestrians and cars, fire hydrants and street signs. Behind him, police whistled madly, Nakamori-keibu howled imprecatorily, and sirens wailed distantly. As for the pedestrians, for the most part they contented themselves with staring suprisedly at the improbable white figure that danced in their midst.

Kaito was in his element. He was also, not unnaturally, full of adrenaline, and was beginning to think that he should do this more often, if only for the fun of leading large numbers of hurly-burly policemen in an undignified game of follow-the-leader. The situation was amusing at the least; and he loved it. He bowed politely as he scampered around bag-laden housewives; he eluded large men who were obviously considering heroics (and the large price on Kid's head); he cartwheeled across cross-walks; he even held a door open for a very slow old lady with a walker and then sped off again when his pursuers had gotten within twenty feet of him.

However, they say that all good things come to an end - and Kaito had a test the next morning, which he needed to be awake to take. Gradually he increased the distance between himself and his pursuers, leading them into a more populated area where he could change clothes and blend in with the crowd.

Five minutes had passed before he was far enough ahead that turning a corner would give him near twenty seconds before the foremost of the police could see him. Another five passed before he found a city block that had a dark, narrow alley near a corner. By then the sirens were getting closer, and he thought he could hear helicopters. It was time to end the pursuit.

Kaitou Kid ducked under a looming construction worker, leapt onto and then down from a bus-stop, and whisked himself around the corner in a burst of pink smoke that distracted the pedestrians on the new street long enough for him to dodge into the alley and begin his transformation from Kaitou Kid, the most wanted thief in Japan, into Kuroba Kaito, perfectly normal, average, definitely-not-a-phantom-thief highschooler. In five seconds the sole inhabitant of the alley was a rather grubby, tousle-headed teenaged boy holding a pile of immaculate white clothing, perched on top of which was his white top hat and a monocle.

Now came the tricky part.

Or rather, the part that bothered Kaito. It wasn't really that hard - as a matter of fact, it required almost no effort at all. That was why it bothered him: it was too easy. But Kaito didn't like losing suits, and leaving a suit behind, however carefully hidden, meant losing it. If it wasn't the police, it was the fans, and he wasn't sure which was worse. He couldn't take them with him because of the chance that the police would barricade the street and search everyone. He had no choice but to use the strange object (or lack of one) which presented itself every time he had something on his hands that he needed to get rid of quickly. Still, though he had never yet lost a suit to the thing (they always appeared in his father's secret room the next morning) he couldn't shake a feeling of doubt. It was such a strange thing to happen - what if this time it didn't?

An eternity that lasted approximately five seconds passed, and then - _there_!

Level with Kaito's head, and about two feet in front of him, a pinprick of utter blackness appeared in the semi-dark gloom of the alley and began to grow into a perfect circle of nothingness. The alley seemed to grow dimmer and quieter and stiller and colder as the circle expanded until it was nearly three feet across. Then it stopped and hung in the air - no; "hung" is the wrong word; it simply _was_ - or wasn't - depending on how you looked at it.

But Kaito was used to it; he merely gave a sigh of relief and hastily tossed his burden into the void, where it vanished instantly. Whistling cheerfully, hands in pockets, Kaito left the alley. He paused momentarily to listen to the click the circle made as it vanished, and then walked unconcernedly in the direction from which he had come, through a host of milling policemen. Nakamori-keibu had gone from howling to screaming punctuated with gasps for air, and was fairly dancing with rage as he demanded that everyone within six miles be held for questioning.

Kaito grinned. "Good old plotholes," he murmured.

_Finis_

**

* * *

A/N**: I read a comic once where the characters needed to go somewhere, so they took a plothole. It seemed like a very good idea to me (it took less time, it was funny, and of course they didn't have to buy gas for it) and so I thought that a plothole would also be a good place to store things, as long as you're sure you can get them back, of course. 

This story has been sitting in my "On Hold" folder for a long, long time. Since around the time I started the fifth story for Melange, I think. You get it now because the next chapter of _The Empty House_ is going to be very, very late, unless I suddenly start writing more than two paragraphs a day.

Of course, thank-yous and cookies all around for my reviewers.

Ja ne!


	12. The Confession

Standard disclaimer applies (still).

* * *

**The Confession**

Kaito's Poker Face was gone.

The room was filled with flickering shadows, but the face the boy had turned toward Aoko was a seething mix of emotion: regret, hope, reluctance, fear... It was the face of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, plastered thinly over the face of a man about to profess his undying love. It could, in fact, have been classified as the face of a man caught with his hand in a cookie jar by the woman he loves, whose wrath he proposes to turn by getting down on one knee and suggesting that a certain proverbial knot be tied.

"Aoko..."

In stark contrast, Aoko's face held only mild confusion. At the sound of Kaito's voice she turned her head towards him, tilting it at a querulous angle. The only sign that she had seen his expression was a slight, worried compression of her lips.

"Aoko ... I can't remember my lines."

_CUT!_

* * *

**A/N**: I originally meant this to be an omake for _The Empty House_ but it only needed a little tweaking to make it into a _Magic Kaito_. Sorry about the delay in updating everything... And thank you very much for all the reviews! 

Ja ne!


	13. The Great Escape

I don't own _Magic Kaito_. I thought I could get it on eBay (which I also don't own) but apparently I can't.

* * *

**The Great Escape**

"There's no need to be upset," said the man.

Hakuba Saguru looked up at him and said nothing. He was inclined to think that, if there was not precisely a _need_ to be upset, there were certainly a lot of jolly good excuses for being so, if one was. This was considering a number of facts: first, that he was, at the moment, bound so firmly and thouroughly to a chair that it was only with an almost super-human effort that he could manage to wriggle his ears; second, that the room in which the chair stood was made of concrete, lit with only one one dim yellow bulb at the opposite end over a long workbench, and remarkably devoid of windows, air-conditioning vents, and other possible routes of escape; third, that the muscular build and sheer bulk of the man who stood before him explaining the situation in-between sips of foul-smelling coffee was vastly superior to his own; fourth, that the workbench at the other end of the room was spread with a number of extremely odd instruments that he remembered from fourth grade, when he had studied the Spanish Inquisition for an essay; and fifth, that his companion, bound as tightly as he, appeared still to be sleeping off the effects of a broken bottle to the back of the head - "appeared" because one never could tell with Kuroba.

"It's real simple," said the man genially. "I want some information from you. You happen to be the only one who has it. I want you to tell me who the Kaitou Kid really is."

Now how the devil does he know I know that? wondered Hakuba, fixing his eyes firmly on the man's nose to avoid any injudicious glances at his companion. It was an ugly nose; it seemed to have been taken to pieces and put back all wrong not once, but several times.

"I know you know. I know you're not saying anything because you can't prove it. I," said the man, with a slurp, "don't care about proof. You're a world-famous detective, after all."

Flattery will get you nowhere, said Hakuba silently.

"All you do is tell me who he is, and I let you and your friend here go. And then in a week, maybe, or a month, the police stop getting notes and there's no more bother. A bit of an embarrassment for the police over and done with, and no harm done. Real simple, like I said."

Uh huh, thought Hakuba, in a very un-English non-display of low-class sarcasm. "What if I don't want to tell?" he asked aloud.

The man grinned unpleasantly. "If you don't, then in a few minutes, when your friend wakes up, I come in and have a little - _talk_ with him, and then maybe you tell me what I want to know. Or if you don't, I might just have to talk with you, too."

The little pause before and the emphasis on the word "talk" was unmistakable; villains learned it on their mothers' knees, these days. It left Hakuba in absolutely no doubt that several interpretive measures would be taken in order to drill the meaning of the question into his (or rather Kuroba's) head. Or some other body part. He fancied that the man would use the little drill with spikes - the one on the far corner of the workbench.

"I see," he said.

"Good," said the man, grin widening hideously. "I'll let you think about that, then." He turned on one massive heel and left the room. The door slammed shut before him, and Hakuba heard the click of a lock and a dull thud - probably a bar - before the sound of feet ascending stairs. Then there was silence.

Beside him, Kuroba opened one brilliant blue eye, drew in a long, slow breath, and began to laugh.

"Stop that," said Hakuba irritably, glaring at him out of the corner of one eye. "You blasted fool, were you even listening?"

"Yes," choked Kuroba mirthfully. "Oh, I was!"

"Then what the devil are you laughing about?"

Kuroba sobered instantly. "I have no idea," he said meekly; but there was still a spark of amusement in his half-lidded eye, and the corner of his mouth was turned down firmly to contain a smile.

"This is no time to be having hysterics," said Hakuba crossly. "It turns out badly for you either way, doesn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Kuroba flippantly. "Did you hear something?"

"No I didn't," said Hakuba. "This is all your fault, you know."

"It is?"

"If you hadn't had me tied up for that magic trick, then this would never have happened!" snapped Hakuba. "And what possessed you to go after them when you saw they'd got me?"

"Well you were the one who volunteered," argued Kuroba, "and what was I supposed to do? 'Oh dear, someone seems to be kidnapping Hakuba. Guess I'll just go home and hope he gets out of it on his own', is that it?"

"Well, no, but now you're stuck too! Couldn't you have followed from a safe distance or called the police or something?"

"What for?"

Conceited idiot, thought Hakuba; and then: "What if I tell?"

"You won't."

"Why not?"

"You're too chivalrous and -- what's that English word? -- too sporting to hand over your enemy to his enemies like that. Also," said Kuroba, "there's really no need to. That man was _not_ a sailor."

He shrugged his shoulders, and the ropes slid down to lie in untidy coils on the conrete floor. "Too much rope and too few knots," said Kuroba sadly, "and what knots there were were too loose."

"How did you _do_ that?" demanded Hakuba.

"Me?" said Kuroba, getting to his feet and raising quizzical eyebrows at the detective. "_I_ didn't do anything; they came undone all by themselves."

"They did, did they?"

"Yes," said Kuroba agreeably, "but it seems yours aren't going to do the same."

Hakuba took the hint and shut up.

The door gave them no trouble, even though the hinges were on the other side. They simply selected a vaguely mallet-shaped intrument from the workbench, and another with a long, tapered projection, and used them like a hammer and nail, driving the spike into the crack between door and doorframe where the hinges would be. The snap and clatter of metal on the other side told them they had succeeded, and they did the same to the lower hinge. Then Kuroba found two thin sturdy saw-edged rods on the workbench and proposed to lift the bar on the other side of the door with them; Hakuba wisely refrained from mentioning the lock which was now unaccountably unlocked, and their joint effort was rewarded with a clatter and a boom as first the bar and then the door fell to the concrete floor in the other room.

Hakuba winced. "He _must_ have heard _that_."

"I don't see why he should have," said Kuroba, stepping onto the door lightly and crossing the floor to peer up a steep stairway, the only other exit from the room.

"Because it was loud!" snapped Hakuba. "And he's not deaf!"

"No," said Kuroba, and began to ascend the stairs. His voice floated back down, cheerful and slightly smug. "He's not deaf, he's out cold."

And when Hakuba had clattered up to where the boy was crouching over the inert form of their jailer, he was forced to agree. The man was, indeed, out cold. He was even snoring softly, oblivious to the fact that he had cut his hand on one of the shards of his empty coffee cup; the rest were scattered around him and halfway down the concrete steps.

"He must have accidentally dropped some of that sedative he gave me into his coffee," said Kuroba, with appropriate commisseration. "How unfortunate. Well, I'll clean up the pottery while you call the police. This man is obviously unbalanced."

Hakuba gave a sigh and did not even bother to glare. "Fine. I don't even want to know how you did it."

Kuroba only grinned.

_Finis_

* * *

**A/N**: This idea came to me a few weeks (months?) ago, and it amused me. I hope you like it. Thanks for the reviews! 


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